


Honey Drips

by januarywren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Animagus, Crack Treated Seriously, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death Eaters, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Memory Charm | Obliviate (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Other, Quidditch, Romantic Friendship, Vampires, sevmione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2020-12-13 23:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 19,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarywren/pseuds/januarywren
Summary: “I should like to bury something precious in every place where I've been happy and then, when I'm old and ugly and miserable, I could come back and dig it up and remember.”― Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited: The Sacred and Profane Memories of Captain Charles RyderMultiple pairings, independent chapter ratings, canon and AU, drips, and drabbles of words! :)





	1. Severus x Hermione | Modern, Magic, AU | G | I

Hermione smirked, contently writing down notes on her friend’s paper.

If anyone had bothered to read them, they’d know that she was not noting about Trelawney’s lesson (one about garden gnomes and how the things they left behind - even their droppings - could symbolize the finder’s future), but instead was making plans for how gnomes could overturn their public image as a common pest and how Trelawney could be fired from her post for promoting using garden gnomes and ignoring their rights.

“_Miss Granger_!” Severus hissed, noticing what his friend was doing. It’d taken him long enough, as he was actually paying attention to the lesson.

“Mr. Snape,” she mocked, haughtily raising her eyebrow at him. Severus was known for his fearsome scowls, one that had scared even her a little at first.

Tentatively, they formed a relationship; both of them occupying the library often enough, moving tables until they studied at ones next to each other. Their friendship had been cemented when she’d found him surrounded outside the library, after hours, by Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter. She’d scared them off by sending a flurry of raging crows at them that had scratched and pecked at them, giving chase as they ran. Severus had doubled over laughing, and she’d laughed too until they’d smiled at each other (while desperately gasping for breath).

They’d been friends ever since and were nearly inseparable, taking all their classes together, except for first period when Snape took advanced potions (alongside his sometimes friend, Regulus Black), while she took charms with her friend, Theodore Nott.

“Don’t call me that,” he countered, his dark eyes narrowing.

She tilted her head and tapped her pen against her chin. She’d abandoned focusing on Trelawney’s lesson, instead choosing to study _him_. “Why?” Hermione asked earnestly, not bothering to lower her voice. They sat near the back of the room (entirely by Severus’s choice) while other students crowded around their professor, eager to see their divination results. “You call me by my last name, no matter how many times I ask you not to.”

“I-“

His cheeks flamed.

How was he supposed to say that he loved her name?

He’d become aware of a strange increase in his pulse when he was around her, intently studying her features (secretly wanting to twist her curls about his fingers, and count the splash of freckles over her nose), and less annoyed than he usually was with her incessant hand waving and the tap of her foot when she ached to answer a question.

“Are you okay?” Her hand touched the crook of his arm, and his head snapped to look at her. Her caramel-colored eyes were filled with concern, and her brow knitted in confusion at his blushing cheeks and stubborn silence. “Severus?” It was always Severus with her, or teasingly, Mr. Snape, but Hermione never shortened his name.

She’d wrinkled her nose when a younger classmate, a kind, but selfish girl named Lily insisted on calling him, Sev. Like a resting cat with its tail swishing, Hermione had watched Lily trail after her friend, claiming the seat next to him at lunch and making him a flower crown (of all things!) during an outdoor break. He’d politely thanked her, turning it over in his hands and appreciating the pretty pastel blooms, before Apparating it on to the statue of their school’s founder.

Later, Hermione heard that Lily was intent on making her on and off again boyfriend, James, jealous of her sudden relationship with Severus. She’d nearly snapped her wand in half before she’d slammed her book shut and hurried to find her friend.

She’d found him on the school rooftop, his lunchbox beside him, while he crumbled bits of bread in his hand, feeding the pigeons that surrounded him. She wasn’t surprised, knowing he rarely ate lunch. He’d looked up at her with solemn eyes, unruffled at the sight of her flaring curls and darkened cheeks, as she’d told him that Lily was using him.

“I know,” he’d admitted, and she’d stuttered in surprise.

“But you still -“ She’d plopped down beside him, and the pigeons had eagerly cooed as if they knew she’d feed them too. And she did, liking the birds, especially as her parents wouldn’t let her have a pet (besides her familiar, Crookshanks, seeing as the law insisted that every young witch and wizard be allowed a familiar). “You’re letting her, Severus. Why?”

“Because,” his hand touched hers, as he handed her a chunk of stale bread. “I don’t care.”

“She’s not you.”

“_Oh_.” She stopped tearing strips of bread apart and looked at him with wide eyes. He’d never said anything like that before, except once when he’d complimented her when she scored higher on a potion’s exam (both of them knowing how much he’d helped her beforehand, as she’d been stirring the brew backward and cutting the ginger into cubes, instead of halves).

They’d fallen silent then, only the sounds of the pigeons gobbling down bread and cooing for more filling the space between them until she’d leaned her head against his shoulder and said that she cared for him too.

Since then, something had changed between them, though neither asked the other what it was. Hermione would have lectured him, perhaps suggesting they visit the medwitch, or look up their symptoms in a book from the library, while Severus would have gently scoffed at her. He found that he didn’t like to see her face fall, not as it once had when he’d castigated her for letting Crookshanks burrow under his robes, thereby covering the black material with his fur. She’d stormed off, with his robes in hand, and returned later with the robes spotless (introducing him to a lint roller). She’d apologized too, though he’d felt that he should too - his stomach-churning, and his nausea rising in his throat when she’d left him.

But Hermione had proved, unlike his mother, that she’d always come back, no matter the disagreements they had. He met her earnest gaze, and nodded, though he knew she was waiting for him to speak. He wasn’t going to give her a silly speech, a “thank you” for being his friend, not in class, at least.

She seemed to understand, as her brow smoothed. “Her-mi-one,” she teased, setting her pen down, having successfully covered his notebook in her plans for reshaping the image of garden gnomes. He didn’t comment that last week it had been the rights of werewolves (Hermione proposing they could wolfbane could be made mandatory, and werewolves fully integrated among society) and the week before that it had been sirens (“Surely they aren’t _all _wicked, Severus!”).

Not to mention her crusade for the house-elves, servient creatures that thronged the school, eager to help students, while others served well-known families. Somehow, Hermione remembered all her causes, Severus undoubtedly believing that she had a planner of them, with a color-coded schedule for what and when she should do things for them. “In case you don’t know how to say it, Mr. Snape.”

The corners of his mouth uplifted, as he regarded her; his friend, the closest one he’d had. “I believe that I do, Miss. Granger,” Severus returned. “Hermione.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connect with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🤠


	2. Severus x Hermione | Modern, Magic, AU | T | II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severus: *breaks into his friend's bedroom*
> 
> Hermione: ok but there's a test tomorrow -
> 
> ...how can anyone not love these two? 😂💙 I'm taking prompts on my tumblr, just send me an ask or a private message, and I'll see what I can do. :) If you'd like another story of mine to be updated sooner, you can tell me that too - I'm starting new classes this week, I'm so glad to be finished with finals. They were *insane*. ;; 
> 
> And a huge thank you to anyone who reads my work, it really is humbling to me, knowing there are people viewing/enjoying my work! It makes me happier than I can say, and I love chatting with you all. Thank you! 💙

_Thump._

Hermione sat up in bed and reached for her wand (always keeping it near, as she’d learned as a first-year student when she’d found just how awful the other classmates could be). “_Lumos_.”

Gentle light bathed the room, revealing an open window and a guilty-looking friend standing next to her dresser. “Severus?” she asked, her curls cascading about her flushed cheeks. “What are you doing here? You know there’s a test tomorrow -“

One that she’d been studying for, amidst binge-watching movies, tomes crowded about the side of her bed. “You weren’t -“

He stopped at the foot of her bed, shifting his weight to his other foot. He looked like a dementor in his black robes, and his somber clothing beneath; a grey sweater pulled over his trousers. “You weren’t at school today.” His throat trembled, as he glanced about the room; looking at anything but her.  
  
  
“I…wondered where you were.”

They were both silent a moment, her features softening. Severus could be dark and brooding all he liked, but she knew that he had a loyal streak about him, one that was as fierce as hers was. She'd seen him stand beside Regulus, despite how his brother, Sirius, tormented him (before she'd intervened), never holding his family against him. She didn't think it was for fear of being on his own either, as Severus was content with himself for company, even more than she was. But, seeing him then, Hermione hesitated. 

Had he _missed_ her?

“Didn’t you get my owl?” she pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth, and he swallowed thickly, tracking the movement.

“No.”

He didn’t add that his father had barred the windows days before, insistent that his wife and child stop sending stories about him. From who, he didn’t say, not before he’d backhanded his wife for quietly saying their son would need to hear from his teachers. There’d been an end to owling, though Severus was sure in a few weeks, his father wouldn’t remember his orders to their terrified house-elves.

Merlin, he hoped so.

Hermione shifted, moving further aside in her bed. “Athena must have gotten lost,” she said, though they both knew her owl knew the way to the Prince Manor by heart. They’d sent owls regularly to each other, their owls (hers, a tawny screech owl that’d found her way to the Granger yard, where she’d been nearly mauled by Crookshanks before Hermione had saved her, while Severus shared an elegant barn owl, Demeter, with his mother) frequently passing each other mid-air. “Or she’s sulking still.”

His brow arched. “Still?”

“You know how Athena is about her treats,” Hermione said seriously. Her owl was almost as spoiled as her familiar, Crookshanks, was. “She won’t even deliver _my_ letters if I don’t give her one ahead of time, and two more when she returns.”

“I’ve cost you a lot of treats then,” he said, and she laughed in reply. 

It was true, both of them consistently writing to each other after they’d become friends at school. They lived an hour apart from each other, with Severus never inviting her over and Hermione’s house lacking a Floo, they found owling the best way to chat with one another. Severus kept her letters hidden under a loose floorboard in his room, one that his father would never find, though he kept the first letter she’d written him about his summer plans and signing off as his friend, Hermione Granger, that he kept in his robe pocket. He’d folded and unfolded it countless times, the parchment paper worn, though without tear.

He’d asked her, once, if she burnt his letters for warmth (a fire nearly always running in the fireplace in her bedroom) and she’d slowly shaken her head, before calling her beaded bag to her. She showed him the adjustments she’d made to it, charming it to be featherlight, while expanding it to have limitless space. She kept her letters there, she said, amidst other things that meant something to her, or that she needed (namely her muggle camera, and several books to read).

“You’re worth it, Severus,” Hermione replied earnestly, before scooting to the middle of her bed. The springs squeaked beneath her, and she pulled the covers back, patting the space next to her. “Come here, please.”

His dark eyes met hers, and he quirked his head to the side. "Why?" 

"Please," she repeated. He could be distant, sometimes, his eyes suddenly sullen, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Those were the times she disliked the most, when he held himself back, and wouldn't confide in her, instead keeping his emotions locked up tight. She kept nothing from him, welcoming him beside her as if it was natural to have him there. And it was, she thought, it really was. 

Hesitantly, he slipped off his shoes before moving to climb in next to her, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He rested his hands in his lap and looked more solemn than she’d ever seen him (aside from when he’d quietly told her that she could be his partner, during a school project, if she’d liked).

She rolled on her side, facing him, and tucked her pillow beneath her head.

They’d done this before when he climbed the tree to her window and came to her bed; normally his cheek bright red, marred with the shape of a cruel hand, or with his eye black, and his lip bleeding and bruised. It wasn’t something they spoke about, not after the first time when he’d turned his back, and refused to speak to her; and she’d rested her head on his shoulder, realizing that he was crying; ugly, stuttering tears.

“I…started over the weekend,” she told him, feeling cramps low in her pelvis. “My courses. Mum let me stay home today, with chocolate and I watched -“

He snorted, his cheeks pink. “Beauty and the Beast.”

“Mhm,” Hermione nodded, ignoring the derision in his tone. She was used to Severus’s snarkiness, though she was hardly one to back down to him. “You should give it another chance, you know, Beast really does love Belle -“

“Despite locking up her father -“

“That’s only _one_ part!”

“And trying to push her away -“

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and huffed. “He realizes his mistake, in the end,” she played with the sheets, feeling the fleece beneath her hand. “He doesn’t act, well, like a beast throughout the whole thing, and you know, Disney movies _always_ have a happy ending.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “I know.”

She’d made him watch enough of them, the few times he’d come over to the Granger household. They’d fix themselves a mountainous plate of toast and make tea before settling down in front of the television and watch the VCR tapes that Hermione adored. Despite their shared mockery of romance novels, her movie collection was centered around Disney, and their sweet, animated films. Something, Severus didn’t understand.

Something, Severus didn’t mind at all.

“You can,” Hermione reached for his hand, her fingertips brushing against his. His skin was paler than hers, as she’d tanned from reading out in the sun, in a hammock her father had hung for her between two great oak trees. “You should - you can stay here if you’d like, tonight.”

“Know-it-all,” Severus hummed, pleased at the indignant flare of her cheeks. He teased her during moments when they were entirely alone together, showing a dry (and sly) sense of humor that few would believe that he had. He was different than a wraith that stalked the halls or hiding himself away in the shadows, with a book tucked under his arm, as most of their classmates saw him as.

His biting tongue and acidic remarks didn’t help, though Hermione knew how cruel the others had been to him. She knew their bite as well as he did, having felt it more than once; Lucius Malfoy deriding her for being a mudblood, while Avery Nott had thrown gum into her curls, making a terrible mess, while the others had laughed. She’d run to the bathroom, locking herself away in an empty stall, and fumbled with spells until she’d cried into her sleeve. (Later, she’d charmed a bag of chocolate frogs that Avery was eating, making fearsome warts splotch across his face for months, while Lucius had_ mysteriously _found his broom up in flames, and been heavily chastised by his father, who’d taken the train down _just_ to scold him for destroying a family heirloom).

“Friend,” Hermione corrected, her nose pointed in the air. Friends cared about each other, whether they seemed like swotty know-it-alls or not, she knew, and sniffed for emphasis (both of them hiding their smiles).  
  
  
“Do you want me to?” he asked, pursing his lips.

“Yes,” she didn’t hesitate. “You know it’s not safe to fly, not in the dark.”  
  
  
It _was_, for someone better at flying than Hermione was. Flying was something Severus never minded, using a hand-me-down broom from a distant cousin, though he was apt to stay in his room reading or brewing potions, instead of zipping through the sky, leaving his mother behind.  
  
  
Still…

He knew that he wouldn’t be missed, not when his mother stayed retired in her room after his father’s latest outburst. Nor would his father look for his son, drowning himself in their remaining supply of firewhiskey. Severus nodded shortly, stifling a yawn, as he relaxed against the bed. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

“Night, Severus.”

And slowly, his fingers grasped hers.

* * *

In the morning, Hermione awoke alone.

She blinked, squinting at the vial left behind, on the pillow beside her.

She recognized Severus’s work, the vial imprinted with his initials, S.S., as she took it, and held it up to the morning light. ‘For your monthly pain,’ He’d written on the note tied about the cork, his elegant penmanship a source of envy for her. 

She hadn’t known, then, that Severus had hidden vials in his cloak before he’d come the night before, afraid that there was something wrong with her. Something that he could cure if she’d let him.

Then she’d come back. To school.

To him.

Gingerly, Hermione uncorked the bottle, before swallowing the amber liquid. It was sweet, with a note of bitterness, and she felt it trailing down her throat. It was warm and smooth, her cramps receding as she felt it settle in her stomach, and into the thick of her pelvis. Severus really was brilliant at potions, a fact she'd never doubted, but never took advantage of either. 

“Thank you, Severus,” she said, glancing toward the open window, where a gentle breeze streamed into the room. She would have gone to school regardless, never one for missing a test. She gently curled her hair behind her ear and smiled at the thought of seeing Severus again.  
  
  
Her friend.

_(Her heart skipped a beat.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connect with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Thank you for beta'ing, Oni and Jelly! You both were very helpful, and who knew Jelly was an eldritch? (Hopefully you're nicer than Pennywise... 😂). 💛


	3. Death Eater x Hermione | Voldemort Won, AU | M | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight BDSM | Emotional Manipulation | Fluffier than you'd think | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat 
> 
> *No* idea where this idea came from, but I ship Hermione with almost every Death Eater and have been wanting to play around with something like this for a while. :) It could be Dolohov, or Lucius, or someone entirely different. 🖤🐍
> 
> Thank you for reading, it means so much to me!

He’d always adored pretty, precious things.

  
  
He ran his fingertips across her creamy skin, before cupping his palm against the inside of her thigh. She was a bird that had blossomed under his care, her curves coming to life, and her eyes -

  
  
He leaned forward, grazing his lips against the column of her throat. He felt her pulse quicken beneath his teasing kisses and smiled against her fair body. “Wake up, pet,” he crooned.

Her nose scrunched, freckles dusted across her cheeks and her nose bridge.

  
  
He’d counted her freckles before, kissing every one of them before he’d stopped at the arch of her foot, and kissed her insole. She’d giggled at the feeling, and he’d moved to tickle her feet, her sides, anywhere he could reach, before she’d run from him, laughing, and her curls streaming about her.

  
  
It was a memory he frequently relived, closing his eyes and placing himself back there; ignoring the screams about him, and the heavy weight of the wand in his hand. It was a luxurious pleasure, a delightful sin.

  
  
She sighed, and her eyes fluttered open, tendrils of sleep clinging to her eyelashes still. Her curls splayed over the silken pillowcase, and she rolled beneath him, stretching her arms overhead. Her nightgown clung to her body, and ribbons entwined across her neck.

  
  
“Master,” she whispered, her sweet voice filled with love.

  
  
She turned her head and gently kissed the Dark Mark on his forearm. It burned beneath her touch, her muddled blood making him feel pain.

  
  
“How I suffer for you,” he said lowly, his tone teasing.

  
  
Her whiskey-colored eyes filled with concern, as she tilted her face toward him. “I could slip away,” she replied, sinking her teeth into her fleshy, bottom lip. The words weren’t screamed, unlike when she’d first been in his care, making it her pained mantra until her throat went hoarse from overuse. “It could be better- “

  
  
“You could be better,” she amended, her gaze briefly meeting his.

  
  
He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, lowly clucking his tongue. “Do you want to leave so badly, little one?” He asked, his tone even, and words softer still.

  
Her mind was curiously fragile, a delightful mix of naiveté and precociousness after she'd been _Obliviated_. There were times when he came to her and found her sitting cross-legged before the fireplace, and staring intently at her hand as if she saw something burrowed deep in her flesh. He would wrap his arms about her, and carry her to the four-poster bed, where she'd lay limply in his arms, without making a sound. There were other moments, ones that he treasured, when he traced the flickering wound against her chest, with his tongue, and suckled on her rosy breasts while adoring the sound of her cries. He'd been the first one to have her, the first and only one to mark her as his own.

  
  
They were inseparable then, as he’d let her mark him in turn.

  
  
She’d wormed his way into the crevice of his chest, and refused to be displaced from there, twisting and clawing her way deeper within him; lodging until he’d never be able to let her go.

  
Which, he never had, when he'd found his little bird out in the woods. The Golden Trio had hidden themselves away as if every tree weren't a slave to his master, and every bird a familiar to the Snatchers. It'd been ridiculously easy to find them and rip the Golden Trio, limb from limb. The Chosen One had found his end before the Dark Lord, his ginger-haired friend crudely executed amidst Snatchers, his traitorous blood staining the fallen leaves. And his little bird had been released to him, his Master promising him that his loyalty would be rewarded, and the mud-blood assuredly his.

  
  
"No," she shook her head, her lips trembling as she said the words. "I want to stay with you," her eyes never left him, her widened stare brimming with naked honesty. "Just if it - if it hurts, having me- "

  
  
“Ah.”

He placed his index finger against her honeyed lips and smiled at her silence.

  
  
She was a Gryffindor still, showing the loyalty that others of her house had, and the foolhardiness. One of his house would have choked on his cock every moment they could, stroking his sack and prostrating themselves on their knees, before him; well aware of the raging war outside the manor doors.

  
  
The dismantling of the Golden Trio hadn’t ended it, the Order continuing to dwindle, then rise as insufferably as a Phoenix. They were children, enraged and foolishly brave, fighting against the bleeding darkness of the world, unwilling to let the light be smothered.

  
  
What silly words they used, he thought, tasting them on his tongue. It was a wonder the girl beneath him had ever believed in them.

  
  
“I’ve decided, little one,” he trailed his finger down her chin, before licking her lips with his tongue. She relaxed against him, and parted her lips; exhaling softly, and entwined her arms about his neck. “The pleasure I find with you is worth the pain- “

  
  
He rocked his hips against hers, letting her feel his erection beneath his robes. “The disgrace,” he hissed the word before taking her mouth with his; kissing her harshly and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Her tongue tangled with his, and she moaned as he ground his hips against hers. He always hid her from the world, tucking her beneath him, or fucking her while she was all on fours, and he leaned over her, burrowing himself inside her.

  
  
She only knew him, and inside the four walls of her bedroom, he only knew her. She was the one he ached to possess, the one that he sullied his bloodline for, and would do so, again and again, until they were made one and the same.

  
  
“Hermione,” he groaned, and she whimpered his name in turn.

  
  
“Please,” she whispered, and he chuckled, knowing what she wanted. He’d teased her for hours before, burying his face between her legs, and making her shudder and cry as he nursed from her cunt. She’d drenched his skin in her slick, her whines heightening as he pulled back before she came, keeping her like that for as long as he pleased.

  
  
She was beautiful when he teased her.

  
  
She would blush from her cheeks to her chest, a rosy color, the same as the pink of her cunt; and he’d watch as it darkened, tears rolling down her cheeks as she begged to cum on his face, in his mouth, on his hand - anywhere he’d let her, anywhere he’d like, if only he’d let her. And he would, he always would, delighting as she fell apart because of his touch.

  
  
He traced circles against her ribcage and felt her tremble beneath his touch. “Have me,” she begged, and he purred at the sound. She knew how to please him, more than any other had.

  
  
“Do you want this?” He asked.

  
  
As if she had a choice. As if she were more than his _possession_.

  
  
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation. She shifted against him, slowly parting her thighs, allowing him to feel her aching, damp cunt beneath her nightgown. She wore the clothing that he allowed, her closet drawers brimming with silken robes, and fine nightgowns; lace bras that he tore off her, and stockings that he pulled from her shaking thighs, and over the curve of her knee with his teeth.

  
  
She asked for little beyond his attention, finding companionship with the house elves by playing board games with them, and peppering them with questions. She read every book that he had brought to her room, curling up in the window seat he’d made for her, often falling asleep in the sunlight there, as if she were a cat. He had a photo of her like that, one he buried in the pocket of his robes that he wore before the Dark Lord, all while feeling deliciously _naughty _at baring his secret amongst the filthy court.

  
  
They would have torn him apart, limb by aristocratic limb, if they knew of the secret that he carried, the one that had taken root in his heart, and weaved about his black lungs. Hermione was his, yes, but he was infinitely, and wonderfully _hers_. She, the brightest witch of her age, the precocious mud-blood who was meant to have it all.

  
  
And now -

  
  
She had him, and him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connect with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Thank you for beta'ing, NCUH and Jelly! Your help is always appreciated, you guys are better than Dobby (though *not* as good as Winky, tbh 🤣💛). 🌹


	4. Sevmione | Modern, Magic, AU | T | III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but that's okay - 🖤
> 
> I hope that everyone had a nice holiday (hopefully not *too* spooky, unless you wanted it that way!) and enjoyed their Halloween. :') 
> 
> I wrote a Halloween themed chapter of Curious Girl, and wanted to work on a reylo story today, but this idea kept pestering me! It's short and sweet, and I appreciate anyone who reads it. 💜🖤

“It’s here, somewhere!” Hermione cried, kicking leaves out from under her feet.

  
  
“Shh,” Severus hissed and ignored his friend’s glare. He didn’t say that they didn’t know what could be lurking around them - they both knew, the forest was home to werewolves and giants, wayward familiars, and creatures that haunted children’s nightmares. (Severus sneered at the thought of Remus being out there, the animal that he was, though he hid his shaking hand).

  
  
They were hunting for purple-spotted toadstools, ones that were said to have caps that tasted the same as sweet, sugar quills and made your tongue glow! It was how they’d decided to celebrate Samhain, both of them adoring the taste of sugar quills, chocolate frogs, and other forbidden treats.

  
  
Sweet things had never been a part of Spinner’s End, while Hermione’s teeth healer parents kept candy from the house, as Hermione told him, before showing him the page in their Herbology textbook that discussed the prized toadstool.

  
  
“_It’s natural enough_,” Hermione said, tracing the diagram with her finger. “_What do you think, Severus? It can’t hurt us_.”

  
  
His eyebrow had cocked, and he’d sneered, noting that she’d forgotten they’d be going into the Forbidden Forest, on Samhain. At his words, she’d smirked at him in turn. “_They_?”

  
  
She knew, then, he didn’t intend for her to scavenge alone.

They’d waited until school ended and had journeyed to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, with Hermione carrying her basket, and Severus with the diagram tucked in his pocket. The toadstools were safe to eat, even their stems having a sweet taste, though their cousin, the puce toadstool could cause headaches, and shaking limbs (he’d brought a crudely drawn diagram of the puce toadstool too, knowing they grew near each other).

  
  
Their dark cloaks fluttered with every step, casting shadows in the dim twilight.

  
  
Above, the yellow moon hung.

* * *

Hermione whimpered, resting her head against her friend’s shoulder.

  
  
“I think- “

  
  
“This wasn’t the best idea?” Severus finished dryly.

  
  
Her basket was discarded at their feet, mushrooms overflowing from it. They’d found a tree covered in luminescent toadstools that showered their face in glow, one with tangled roots and swaying branches. _Purple spotted_ toadstools (Severus carefully comparing their appearance to the diagram). They’d gathered them with abandon, Hermione laughing when a newt had skittered out from one and climbed up her fingers.

  
  
Owls hooted above them while they scavenged, before silencing as they settled at the base of the tree. With their cloaked backs against its trunk, they ate freely, snapping the caps off with their teeth. Sweetness had fizzled across their tongues, and they’d promptly gorged themselves on them (Severus dutifully pulling his apart, and eating them one at a time, while Hermione nibbled around the stem, before snapping the cap off).

  
  
“It _was_ a good idea,” Hermione retorted, and he stifled the urge to chuckle. She elbowed him in annoyance, before reaching for another toadstool. “The book was right,” she continued, turning it over in her hand. “They are like candy - better than something we could get at Honey Dukes.”

  
  
His fingers curved around her slender wrist and felt her steady pulse. “You’ll regret it if you have another.”

  
  
“And you say I’m the swot,” she murmured, though she set it down all the same.

* * *

“Severus?”

  
  
“Mhm?”

  
  
She shifted, yawning as she leaned against his side. “I’m glad we did this.”

“Me too,” he agreed, knowing they’d have to leave the forest soon, though neither wanted to. There was seemingly no other creature but them, as they wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and basked in the glow cast above them. “Happy Samhain, Hermione.”

  
And she said the same, tucking her small hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connect with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Thank you for beta'ing, NCUH and Jelly! 🦝🖤


	5. Sevmione | Epilogue AU | E | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil fic inspired by Broken Wings by OutofMyHead. 🖤
> 
> Their Sevmione story is *gorgeous*. 💜 
> 
> Trapped in an abusive marriage, Hermione finds a crow who reminds her of a certain professor... 
> 
> It's a wonderful story, and has a happy ending, despite its brutal content. Ron is horribly abusive, and some scenes were difficult to read before Severus rescues Hermione, and helps her heal. I wondered about their intimacy afterward and wrote this last night (after re-reading the story for the third time!).

"Merlin, Hermione -" his eyes rolled back as his hands sank into her curls.

It was her gift she'd chosen to give him, despite his anxious protests. He knew exactly what her ex-husband had made her endure, and never wanted to remind her of it. He still moved intently about his little love, careful not to startle her. He knew she had fears still, feeling bruises that were no longer there, and hearing harsh words that he would never say.

He loved her more than he'd loved anyone before, even Lily, who'd been the obsession of his life. He'd sworn to Dumbledore that he would live for Lily's memory and had during the length of the war until he'd 'died' on the Shrieking Shack floor. He'd wallowed in his new life, spending every night buried in some witch's cunt, before he'd found purpose with Hermione. She urged him to live for himself, not for her.

“_Live for yourself, Severus_," she'd told him while cradling his face in her hands. She looked at him as if he were someone worthy of love, instead of scorn. "_Be happy_.”

He deserved it, she said, more than most did.

"Gods, I love you," he choked as she suckled on his throbbing head. His toes curled as she licked his shaft, her tongue warm and wonderfully wet. He felt like a young man again and recited ingredients for the draught of living death in his head. "Hermione, my Hermione -"

It was the first time she'd taken him this way, and he couldn't get enough.

He forced himself to keep his hips still as she eased him further into her mouth, and he positively whimpered when she teased him with her teeth. She was a goddess incarnate.

He drew his hand to her shoulder, and lightly squeezed; letting her know that he was close to his release. "You don't- _ah_!"

He groaned as she took him deeper and hollowed her cheeks and willingly bobbed her head. The sight of her flushed cheeks, wild curls, and her eyes that met his in adoration was too much to stand -

He cried her name as he came in her mouth and was awestruck as she swallowed all that he had to give. He panted as she cleaned him up after, licking at his cock as if it were a sugared quill, before kissing his shaft. "Did you like it?" she asked, her tone shy. He knew what it meant to her, the trust that she had shown him, to pleasure him this way. "I…wanted to please you, Severus."

His brave, wonderful lioness.

He drew her up to his chest, before snogging her soundly. She squeaked as he licked her lips, and he tasted the bitterness of his release without complaint. "I adore you, Hermione," Severus murmured and felt her smile against his lips.

"Even though I’m a swotty know-it-all?" Hermione replied before she kissed the tip of his nose. It was her favorite feature of his, she’d told him, though he was no fool when it came to his appearance.

“Even then, witch” Severus snogged her again, before showing her _exactly_ what he thought of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connect with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Thank you for beta'ing, Pateu! 🦝🖤


	6. Bellatrix x Harry | Voldemort Won, AU | M | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dislike Bellatrix _enormously_ as well as Harry - literally *no* idea where this idea came from, but I enjoyed writing it. 🖤 
> 
> Also, I couldn't find what Bellatrix x Harry is called so...Barry it is, lmao.

It was a funny thing, really. 

  
Tom, her Lord was always Tom to her, his name buried beneath walls of madness that she’d erected, had never been as foolish as her young lover. He’d never had an innocence about him, not since she’d met him as a newlywed woman, and he’d waltzed with her. He’d sensed the hunger in her even then, as he pressed her knuckles to his lips, and sank is teeth into her skin. 

  
He knew that she wasn't boring like Narcissa, or unseemly like Andromeda. She hungered for the world, and its magic and she knew that Tom was the key to it. He'd taken her to bed that night and used her wedding veil as a rope wrapped around her throat. He'd known what she wanted, what she needed. 

  
His Horcrux always asked before he took, and even when she raked her nails down his back, and writhed beneath him, he held himself back. He was whole where Tom had been wanting, and she knew he'd never hungered for the world the way that her Lord had.

No, his Horcrux thought the world could be mended, and she could be saved as if she hadn't taken the Mark as willingly as she did her wine. His Horcrux understood nothing, and yet, she wanted him to understand everything. 

It was why she’d driven him to the edge, countless times before slipping his dripping cock from her. “Take what you want,” she cooed, licking her lips at the tears in his eyes.   
  


  
"Please, Bellatrix -" he choked, and she wanted to laugh, the beautiful, ringing laughter that sent her into fits and frightened him so. A person could only be Crucio'd so many times before they wanted to dance stark naked while hanging themselves from the rafters. She'd tried that once, though she hadn't found it very pleasant; when everything had blurred, and she'd choked on her own vomit before the little ferret had cut her down. 

“_You need to act like a lady befitting your station_," her mother had always told her before she'd washed her hands clean of her naughty, naughty daughter. Idly Bellatrix wondered if her mother had hated her, the daughter who would never behave, the daughter who was smarter than either of her sisters and wanted to live life without regret. "_You need to be good, Bellatrix_.”   
  


  
Lost in her thoughts, Bellatrix frowned when she realized she'd let the Horcrux cum. 

She hadn’t meant for that to happen, no, but if he gasped her name and held himself close to her, how could she be angry? He’d been urging her to be quieter, softer, more herself (as if she was anything else) and she looked down at him in curious interest.

"Did you enjoy yourself, darling?" she asked as if she cared. 

  
She didn't, not really, though Tom had urged her to take care of her things. The ones that he had given her anyway after his last present had died; a silly, ginger blood-traitor that she'd held under Crucio too long.

“I can’t save you,” he whispered, and she wanted to laugh at the heartbreak in his voice. She grasped his face in her hands and watched as he flinched from her nails cutting into his skin. “Oh darling,” she murmured, her tone sickly sweet. “No one can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connect with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
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> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🤠


	7. Tom x Hermione | Same era, AU | M | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started off as a Viktor/Hermione transfer student story and turned into this vent-y little piece.
> 
> I'm not crazy about it, but I thought I'd share it anyway. Hope it's not too bad - I might continue it later, in a polished expansion (Quidditch player Tom...it never appealed to me before, but now? Yes, please, lol!). 
> 
> Thank you for reading! -:)

There are many things their peers know about them. 

Their names, their ages, the classes they excelled at, the same as the classes they disliked. She has no love for Divination, while he scoffs at the lessons Dumbledore gives. He’s a revered member of Slytherin, while she’s beloved only by the head of Gryffindor. They were things that would never matter, things that would make little change to the ones they were.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_.

He is welcomed by many, adored for his fame, and praised for his charismatic nature. There’s no one faster than him on a broom, his skills unmatched by his peers in Slytherin, or the Quidditch fanatics in other Houses.

He knows Draco envies him for it, a feeling that deepens with every new broom he has made, and still pales in comparison to him. “You’ll wipe the feet with Duramstang yet, Riddle,” Nott cheered, and he knew Draco hated him then, more than when he’d found him fucking Astoria in their dorm. Malfoy’s fiancé knew little of loyalty, something Tom had been amused by.

There were some things, he knew, that no one could buy.

He is untouched by his fame, and some think him simple for it. They know little of the forbidden books hidden beneath his bed or the way his wand aches in its holster, as he casts simple spells.

He knows he can be more than others; he _is_ more than the others.

He says nothing as he observes the girl in the library, the one he often sees seated near the Restricted Section. She’s like him, he thinks, remembering when their eyes met once. She yearns for acceptance; she yearns for her world to be more. Like him, she _is_ more.

_Hermione Jean Granger_.

She is disliked by her peers, as they remember her constant hand waving, and her eagerness to attend every lesson. She allows herself to be used, having spent more than once sobbing in the bathroom, before she learned to do her peers' work without question, and was accepted into her House for it.

There was little need for her before, unlike the crowd that comes to her now, asking for answers, and pleading she hurry on an assignment. She always does, knowing there’s safety in their acceptance. She’s already been cast from the muggle world and knows she can’t lose the wizarding one too. She refuses to.

She cries still, where no one can see, and no one can hear.

She waits to release her feelings when she goes home on holiday, ignoring Ron's jibing about how muggles celebrate the holidays, and Harry's hopeful insistence that she'll Owl him during their break.

She promises that she will, knowing that Harry likes her more than the others, and steps on Ron's foot, hard enough for him to cringe. Crookshanks meows in his carrier, never one for traveling. Scabior sits on Ron's shoulder, sniffing the air and chattering loudly. There's no love lost between their familiars, and she has a silly, little dream of unzipping Crookshanks' cage and allowing him to spring free. It would be terrible, and chaotic, something that she would never do.

She dreamed of it still, her lips quivering, as she hides her smile. Ron would hate her for it, and her smile drops at that. His hatred is something she doesn’t want, no matter what has happened between them. She remembers every moment she’s with him how he was one of the first to reject her, being cruel as only a child can be, during the Sorting Hat ceremony. He hadn’t wanted her in Gryffindor, nor had Harry.

Harry, she forgives.

Ron, she forces herself to.

And when she arrives home, the first night she lays in her childhood bed, she allows herself to cry; her tears seeping into her feline’s mangy fur. A tap at the window startles her, and she rubbed harshly at her flushed cheeks.

“Who is it?” she asks as if they would answer before she slid from her bed to her stockinged feet.

The floor creaks beneath her feet as she walks to the window, one that she often read besides, while Crookshanks curled in the window and watched the street below. On the other side, a snowy owl waited, flapping its wings in impatience. She unlatched the window, the frame groaning as she opened it.

“Gorgeous, little one,” she murmured, and it hooted in delight as she stroked its dark beak.

It hooted as she undid the rolled parchment tucked into its collar, and she apologized for having no treats with her. They were tucked in her suitcase still, buried beneath wads of textbooks, and an extra set of robes.

She unrolled the parchment carefully, swallowing tautly.

She has a fear, one that sinks low in her belly, and makes her fingers grip the parchment tight. She's safe with her parents, a part of her reveling in the fact that she's away from her classmates, who will cast her out in a moment if she stops helping them. Their taunts are engraved on her skin, their thoughts of her ones she knows well.

A swotty know it all - a filthy muggle-born - someone who will never be accepted among them, if they remember how she tried to be herself among them. There are ones who welcome her, like Luna Lovegood, and Neville who forgave her for stunning him once, yet they are few, and far between. They aren't enough to protect her from the hatred of the others, not if her House turns against her again.

“Stupid Hermione,” she tells herself, feeling her teeth grind against her cheek. She’s accepted what she has, reminding herself of her tentative friendship with Harry and Ron. Harry, more than Ron, relies on her to bandage his injuries after Quidditch practice, and remind him of upcoming tests.

He has no mother, no father, and was adopted by his Uncle as a child. Revered as a known half-blood, Harry needs her still; sometimes laying his head in her lap, he tells her she’s the mother he never had.

Yet -

She knew it wasn’t Harry writing to her. The hand was too steady, too perfect with its looping swirls, and lack of ink spills, as she read the letter quickly. She wants to rip it off quickly, gleaning the interruption of her holiday, the same as one would when ripping off a band-aid.

It’s nothing like she expects, little pain coming with it. It’s the boy from the library, the one who sits tables away from her, yet stares at her until her cheeks tinge pink and she dips her head lower in her book.

She questions why he’s writing her - what he wants - all while holding the parchment closer still. “_Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast_.”

Her lips curved at that, and his next words.

“_I think we are alike, Hermione, more than either of us wants to admit_.”

Snakes are famed for shedding their skins, the same as Gryffindors are revered for their braveness. Sometimes, Hermione thinks, she should have been sorted into Slytherin; with how she hides her true self inside, wrapping it behind innumerable layers of skin, ensuring no matter how many layers she sheds, she’ll be hidden still.

“Will you wait a moment?” she asks the owl, somehow, knowing that they will.

She called for a pen and parchment paper and quickly began her reply. 

"_Dear Tom..._"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connect with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Oni and Grammarly, thank you! 🦝🖤


	8. Percy x Hermione | Muggle AU | T | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling miserable last night and wanted to write a short, little drabble following a prompt -
> 
> Que 300 words turning into over 1300 - lmao 
> 
> The prompt was the opening line: "It's all bills, bills, bills. That's my only answer now," he said, pointing to..." - I might continue this when I have time, for some reason Percy x Hermione is a pairing I find appealing (!!)
> 
> Thank you for reading! (:

“It’s all bills, bills, bills. That’s my only answer now,” Percy said, pointing to the watch on the table. Hermione knew the silver watch well, having seen Percy wear it since the first time they’d become acquainted again.

Her cart had run into his - literally - in Aisle 9 causing a tower of discounted soup cans to come crashing down. She’d been mortified, her flushed cheeks hidden by her knit scarf as she’d stuttered her apologies.

She’d only felt worse when she realized the man, she’d run into was Percy. Percy _Weasley_, the eldest brother of her childhood friend, Ron. She’d been thick as thieves with him growing up, her house neighboring his, while on the other side of the Weasleys were the Potters.

She, Ron, and Harry had been affectionately nicknamed the ‘Golden Trio’ and every adult knew when they trooped through the neighborhood, they were up to something _wicked_.

“_Ah - Granger_ -“ Percy’s tone had warmed after he’d recognized her. “_It’s been a long time_.”

“_Yes, it has_,” she’d agreed.

They'd made small conversation as they worked to restack the cans, neither of them having the idea to leave the mess for one of the store's workers. Percy worked for the Council, Hermione learned and rented a flat of his own ("_The Burrow’s far too crowded now, with Fleur and Victoire_,” he’d explained dryly).

If she felt a flutter in her chest when their hands brushed, well -

She’d firmly ignored it, knowing nothing had ever come of the childhood crush she’d harbored on him. Percy had never been the popular sibling; overshadowed by Bill’s quiet yet intelligent manner, Charlie’s boisterous courage, a pattern that only continued with the charming twins, easy-going Ron, and spitfire Ginny. Sometimes, Hermione wondered if the Weasleys truly saw Percy, as she watched him become shorter with others, and worry at his tie until she could mirror his actions as her own.

She'd felt more at ease with Percy, knowing he would never pick her up and swing her around, as Charlie did, or tease her as the twins insisted on. He was the only one to ask after her cat, Crookshanks, and had once brought her toffees for Halloween ("_Ron was outraged your parents won’t let you trick or treat_,” he’d explained, smiling wryly. “_And I happen to agree._"). She'd been thrilled by his attention and the tentative friendship between them.

She’d cried over leaving the Weasleys, and the Potters too, after her parents decided to move.

“Wasn’t it a graduation present from Arthur?” Hermione asked, glancing from the watch to her gaunt-looking friend. He hadn’t looked well for weeks, though he wore familiar dress shirts buttoned up to the collar, and P & W cuff links on the sleeves.

There’d been a downsizing at the council, and Percy had been laid off from his job - an awful shame, Hermione thought, as he was precise, more so than anyone she’d known, with an infallible memory. He’d _single-handedly_ created the record system the council used, after thirty years of shoving handwritten notes and memos in countless cabinet drawers and cardboard boxes.

“I have nothing else that will pay these,” Percy replied stiffly, nodding toward the stack of bills near them. “It’ll secure the flat for another month.”

Hermione swallowed, thinking of the assistance programs she knew. “Have you tried -“

“I have,” Percy interrupted, reeling off on his fingers the options he’d looked into. “Staying here for another month is the best option that I have, unless I move back to the Burrow,” something they both knew he would hate to do. He’d moved out on his own as soon as he was able to, something that had helped his relationship with his family.

Hermione nipped at her lip, a sudden thought occurring to her.

"You know, you could move in with me," she started, glancing at the single plant in the room. It was a sad little fern that she'd given Percy after Cormac McLaggen had left it on her desk. Even with a new girl on his arm every week, Cormac hadn’t decided to leave her alone - she often came back from lunch and found a ‘present’ on the reference desk, with his business card attached.

She hadn't rung him yet.

Percy straightened. “I couldn’t possibly -“

“You could,” Hermione countered. “It’s only Crooks and I, unlike the Burrow. I don’t suppose you want to share a room with the twins again?” Her eyebrow lifted.

“I…” his mouth closed, and he drummed his fingers against the table. “I suppose your idea has merit -“

“It does,” Hermione laughed, twirling one soft curl around her finger. “Really Percy, I won’t be finished with my thesis for months yet.”

It was the reason why she’d returned to the town, the library offering her a position while she worked on finishing her journalism degree. She’d been offered positions closer to university but had followed her heart back to the town (even if she cringed at the mention of her ‘_heart_' as if it were some Hallmark movie).

"You can have the spare bedroom if you don't mind Crooks sneaking into your room at night. He considers the queen bed his own, no matter how many cat trees I buy him instead.”

She knew Percy was considering the idea, as he reached for the watch his late father had given him and weighed it in his hand. “I believe I can handle that,” Percy said, his lips curling upward in a tentative smile. “Crooks would make a better roommate than Fred or George.”

“And I’ve sent out my resume throughout town,” Percy added, a nervous tick in his jaw. “I’ve contacted Kingsley too, as I heard he plans to go into private practice.” Kingsley had stepped down from heading the council two years before, as his investments grew. “I shouldn’t be with you longer than a month or two, and I will help however you,” he hesitated a moment, “you need me, Hermione.”

Hermione laced her fingers together and nodded.

She had little thought that Percy (or any of the Weasleys) would use her, having found a second family with them and the Potters. She'd felt terrible when she heard the news of Arthur passing, remembering how kind the man was. She hadn't been able to take time off from school to attend the funeral, though she'd sent cards to all the Weasleys.

Ginny had been especially glad to hear from her, and they continued to write still, though Hermione was more likely to see her at the library. Ginny volunteered there, confiding that Molly decided to spearhead the local women’s committee - soon, they were making more pies and jams than they knew what to do with, and the church’s flowerbeds glistened, free from any troublesome weed.

“You know, I have shelves overflowing with books at the cottage,” Hermione confided. “I’m so busy restocking them at work, that I hardly have time to re-shelve my own.”

He glanced at her; his brow furrowed as he knew she was trying to put him at ease. He'd never quite known what to make of the bushy-haired girl that his younger brother had clung to, nor the warm and fiercely intelligent woman she'd become. It was the highlight of Percy's week to spend time with her, though it was hardly something he'd confess.

_Yet_. 

He squared his shoulders, determined to send out more resumes when he had the chance. There was a reason why the Weasleys were known for their tenacity, a quality that made them all play fiercely on the sports field (even Percy, who’d fenced during university).

“That’s something I can do,” Percy said, putting the watch on again. It felt right on his wrist, the choice to sell it one that weighed on him more than he’d said.

It was the only memento he had from his father, and Percy could remember when he’d given it to him - he’d been right off the podium, clutching his diploma in his hands, when his father had surprised him with it. “_Keep it_,” Arthur had insisted, seeing his son’s surprise at unwrapping the watch his father always wore. “_I’m proud of you, son_.”

“Roommates then?” Hermione asked, holding her hand out to him.

Slowly, his fingers closed around her own. “Roommates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
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> Beta'd by Soup, thank you! 🦝🖤


	9. Draco x Hermione | Stepmother AU | M | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble - one that I would seriously love to continue when I have the time, and my health decides to behave (!!) 
> 
> The prompt was: "You've only heard his point of view. You never asked mine."
> 
> Thank you for reading! 🤗❤

"You've only heard his point of view. You never asked mine, Granger." Draco sneered at his stepmother while drumming his fingers against his knee.

“Malfoy -“

“You know my name,” Draco interrupted. “Say it.”

Unwillingly his gaze was drawn to her quivering lips, as she nipped at them. It was an irritating habit of hers, one that made Draco want to claim her chapped lips as his own if only to make her stop. "There isn't a reason to," Hermione retorted, drawing back her shoulders. 

“But we’re family, aren’t we _mother_?” Draco teased, noting the delicious flush of her cheeks.

Really, she was _too_ easy to rile, her rich, brunette curls seeming to crackle with irritation. He'd felt her curls once when they'd snogged on a dare, and he'd gripped her nape, pulling her flush against him. 

It was a memory he'd tried to bury, despite how hard she'd made him - he'd been harder from their snogging than he'd ever been in his life, making Pansy's attempts at fondling him seem like nothing in comparison. "It wouldn't do for you to call me Malfoy."

Not when he’d called her on her cell phone, the one she kept for emergencies only, and she’d come rushing from work without another thought. He’d heard her take the stairs two at a time, and felt his stomach twist.

Not when she'd bandaged him up and scolded him for fighting again, and didn't he realize he wasn't a **boy** still but a **man **as if she _cared_ -

More than his mother ever had.

Hermione tugged at her sleeve, her hands trembling. “We can’t -“, she hesitated, her voice softening. “We can’t do this, Draco.”

His heart skipped as she said his name with the same breathless tone as when she’d begged him to make her come, again. 

“I married your father -“

“Why?” 

It was a question he’d never asked, and she’d never answered.

“I thought -“ Draco’s cheek twitched. “I thought you were busy fucking _me_ our final year, not chasing after my father.” Lucius’ divorce had been made public after Narcissa had left him for her lover on the continent, one who had far more money than sense. Their divorce had been messy and nasty, only worsening after Draco was forced to repeat his final year of high school after he'd been suspended for fighting Potter.

It’d been Draco’s worst nightmare to find that Hermione Granger, the girl he’d teased throughout childhood, and thought about more than he’d ever admit was repeating the year too, after her parents’ sudden death. She’d been thrust into settling their affairs, Draco had learned later, when she’d been cuddled against him, with her head on his shoulder and her tears on his skin. She’d had no choice, but to drop out of school, until she could repeat the year.

“It wasn’t like that,” Hermione replied. “You were the only one -“

“The only one who what? Would give you attention?” Draco taunted, his temper steadily rising. “I went to see my mother for three weeks, and then -“

He'd come home to the news that Hermione - fucking - Hermione Granger was set to become his stepmother when they'd been snogging only weeks before. She'd been the one on his arm, the one in his stupid heart.

She made a choked noise, a sound that he dreaded -

A sound that he hated, more than when he’d whispered that he’d loved her.

“I can’t do this,” Hermione croaked, and he knew she was crying; thick, globs of tears running down her cheeks and snot filling her nose. He forced his hands to still, keeping them from reaching out to her -

He wasn’t sure which one said it first.

“_I’m sorry_ -“

She cried, and he replied, wanting to die.

He heard the click-clack of her heels and the slam of his bedroom door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Soup and Puuko, thank you! 🦝🖤


	10. Scorpius & Crookshanks | Canon AU | G | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little fluff for everyone to read, while staying home - I know things are scary right now, and I'm here for you all. Please, if you need someone to talk to, send me a message on Tumblr or Discord. 
> 
> Remember that you aren't alone. ❤

"Listen to me, Crooks," Scorpius whispered, "If we both stick to the story, they can't prove anything. You can't give in to mother and tattle on me."

Behind them lay a shattered vase, an innocent victim to his attempts at playing tag with the half-kneazle. Crookshanks was his best friend, clinging to his side when he learned to walk, and willingly nibbled on the vegetables that Scorpius despised. (Carrots and green beans being Crooks’ favorite, while Brussel sprouts were a firm _no_.)

Scorpius hardly paid attention to the baby garter snake his father had gotten him. It was Crooks that he fell asleep with, drool dripping down both their chins and whom he played in the gardens with. Crooks was_ excellent_ at hunting garden gnomes, and a stray fairy or two.

His mother's ragged familiar looked at him with knowing, amber-colored eyes. "_Mew_.”

Scorpius grinned, tickling Crookshanks’ chin. 

“I knew you would agree,” he said, beaming. It was a look that his mother knew well; one when Scorpius flashed his pearly white teeth, and his cheeks blushed pink. While his father was known for the Malfoy smirk, it seemed that his son would be known for his sweet smile; one that few could resist. The House-Elves adored their charge, and it took frequent reminders from his mother to not spoil him rotten. 

(“_No one can say Scorpius isn’t his_,” Pansy Parkinson had commented meeting the young boy, and her husband, Blaise, had wholeheartedly agreed.)

Tucking the extendable ear into his pocket, Draco chuckled.

It seemed that their son was a cherub born wrapped in green and silver, his House clear years before he was due to attend Hogwarts. (Whatever would Hermione think?)

Draco didn’t think she would mind, not as much as the Weasel or Saint Potter would.

Hermione had married him, after all, two years after the war had ended. It'd been a whirlwind romance, one that had unexpectedly given them Scorpius - and if the gods were kind, she would be carrying their next child soon.

Perhaps, Draco shuddered, that child would be a Gryffindor.

Though if they were like their mother -

Draco smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	11. Severus x Hermione | Fluffy AU | G | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little, cheerful update because I think we all need some fluff, no? 
> 
> Thank you for all the nice comments, and sweet messages on AO3, and Tumblr - my dad tested positive today for the coronavirus and isn't doing well. My mom is starting to feel sick too, while I feel okay, but it's worrisome since I have a terribly suppressed immune system. 😩
> 
> Please stay safe, everyone. All of you are in my thoughts and prayers! 💜💜

“_Achoo_!” Severus glowered at the feather tickling his nose.

Correction -

Feathers. As in, a cascade of little, lemon-colored feathers all coming from the bird perched on the windowsill above Severus's desk. The cockatiel shuffled her wings and looked down at her feet.

Severus nodded once, before resuming his essay again.

(The way the bird’s cheeks had flushed pink hadn’t missed his notice, a terribly human reaction on the cockatiel’s part. It was fitting, really, seeing as the cockatiel wasn’t his new familiar, but his friend. His best friend.)

“I’ll find a potion to reverse it,” Severus murmured, his quill scratching rapidly across the parchment paper. “You know that I will, Hermione,” he added, perhaps unnecessarily -

Only when she flew down to perch on his shoulder, and gently nibbled on his ear, Severus knew it was the right thing to say. He knew how his friend fretted, especially since an important charms test was coming up soon (though Severus had little doubt that between himself and Hermione, they would be able to come up with a way for her to take it if she was still stuck in avian form.)

Tucked away in his private room at Hogwarts, safe from his father’s harsh words and his mother’s constant tears, it was easier to be softer with Hermione. Gentle, even, if his words were anything to go by.

_Not_ that he would say the flowery things that Lucius suggested, Severus sneering at the idea. He knew the Malfoy heir rarely meant what he said, hiding the truth behind double meanings, and mockery. No, Severus wouldn’t use Malfoy’s lines on Hermione.

He was always truthful with his friend, the same as she was with him, which was why she'd burst into a cheerful song when he stroked the top of her head and remarked how pretty her coloring was. She was almost entirely yellow, aside from a splash of white along her breast, and another splash of color, one that was a lighter yellow, toward the end of her tail.

She really _was_ a pretty, little thing, though Severus preferred his little swot, one with her hand ever waving in the air, and stray curls forever ending up on his robes. Perhaps knowing his thoughts, Hermione whacked his cheek with her wing.

‘Focus!’

And grumbling under his breath about bossy birds, and errant curses, Severus resolved to finish his essay quickly, so he could focus on changing her back…(His dark brows raising and his cheeks flaring pink, at the thought of her counter-curse requiring a kiss!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	12. Personal Update

I've been posting about my dad's health on Tumblr (@januarywren), and I wanted to post here too.

He tested positive last week for the coronavirus and quickly went downhill. He couldn't get out of bed, had a fever of 103/104, couldn't eat, etc. We brought him to the hospital after he had trouble breathing, and was barely coherent. 

The local hospital quickly sent him via ambulance to Lansing (Michigan's state capital) where a far larger hospital is. They gave him painful shots to thin his blood (he was at risk of developing serious blood clots since he can't walk) and gave him insulin shots since he's diabetic and unable to keep anything down. They also put him on an oxygen machine and diagnosed him with double pneumonia. 

Last night dad went rapidly downhill, and the decision was made this morning to place him on a ventilator. Dad's lungs are simply filled with too much liquid, and he is struggling with both double pneumonia and covid-19. His lungs are badly damaged, and he was moved to the ICU. There's no certainty on how long he'll be out, but it may be 2-4 weeks. 

My mom's health isn't doing well either, as she was taking care of my dad while he stayed home, and she's rapidly showing signs of covid. She hasn't been tested yet, and we are very shaken by dad's condition. I myself am okay, despite having a compromised immune system. Thank you for all the kind messages on Tumblr, and for reaching out to me via comments and asks too. I hope that all of you are safe, and your families too. 


	13. Draco x Hermione | Epilogue AU | T | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling with writer's block lately, and posted this drabble on Tumblr! Just a little dramione to get me writing again. 🙌❤

“Crooks! Oh, how I missed you,” Hermione exclaimed, as her wayward familiar dashed into the room. She scooped him up into her arms, ignoring the orange fur that he shed on her ivory sweater.

“You’re taking him back?” Draco asked, his tone incredulous. “You aren’t serious, are you, Granger?”

“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed. “He didn’t know what he was doing -“

“He ruined my anniversary present to you -“ Draco protested, the very gift taking him weeks to come up with in the first place. He’d wanted to make their anniversary very, very special since Hermione had agreed to become his wife, after three years of dating.

“I loved the thought of it, Draco,” Hermione countered, as her familiar rubbed his furred head against her chin. “A copy of Snape’s notes was more than I could ever ask for.”

Draco scowled, his heart warming all the same. It was the effect that his fiancé always had on him, regardless of whether he wanted her to or not. "What would you do if _I_ touched your books, Granger?"

She blinked, before tilting her head to the side. "You already do," she pointed out, and he resisted the urge to leer at her. It was true that they both shared a library, their cottage ever-expanding as they added more books to their joint collection. But that was far from the point that he was trying his best to make.

“Let’s say I touched an irreplaceable book -“

Draco thought for a moment, before calling a book near.

“My copy of A Hogwarts’s History?” Hermione questioned, and Crooks looked at the book too. Only where Hermione’s eyes were bright with confusion, her familiar seemed to know what Draco was trying to do, his feline eyes narrowing. “Surely you don’t want to reread it -“

He wanted to laugh and cuddle her near, only her familiar between them prevented that. (Draco thought it was absurd that her familiar held a grudge after he'd eaten the fresh cut of salmon - how was he supposed to know it was intended to be Crooks' dinner?)

“No, I don’t,” Draco acknowledged, his fiancé having told him every fact printed across the pages tenfold. “What would you do if I tore it apart?”

Her cheeks paled, “You wouldn’t though.”

“But if I did?” Draco pressed, and she shifted, holding Crooks closer still.

Hermione studied him a moment, her brow kneading in confusion. “I’d be hurt,” she admitted, “and wonder why you did it. It would be the same as me snapping your childhood broom,” which was, of course, something that she would never do.

“Then why did you forgive _him_?” Draco asked.

* * *

“No,” Pansy said, pressing one manicured finger against her lips. “Draco didn’t.”

Draco, both of the women knew, was terribly jealous of the elderly, half-kneazle that simply refused to die.

“He did,” Hermione confirmed, glancing at her newly made friend over the rim of her teacup. (Pansy made a better cup of tea than anyone Hermione knew, aside from Willow, an abused House-Elf that she and Draco had taken in.) “He still sulks when Crooks crawls in between us at night, and I won’t kick him out of the room -“

Pansy set her own cup aside, before giving the other woman the _look_.

“What?” Hermione asked, knowing her friend didn’t approve.

“How are you going to begin your Quidditch team,” Pansy asked slowly, “if you don’t allow Draco near because of your familiar?”

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink before she promptly dashed for the Floo.

* * *

That very night, Hermione and Draco actually talked to each other and found that Pansy was right. (Of course, she was.)

Draco rushed to the store, and came home with a fine cut of steak. (Crookshanks preferred it well-done.)

Hermione drank too many glasses of wine, before making a little nest at the foot of their bed. (Crooks found that he liked it very much, especially when she tucked a catnip-filled mouse beside him.)

Then, Draco and Hermione were busy beneath the sheets for some time. (#Dramione)

And one year later, Pansy became a godmother to one, Scorpius Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
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> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	14. Severus x Hermione | Canon Divergence, Vampire, AU | T | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fulfilled a request on Tumblr though I went a little off the prompt (I've been feeling like trash lately and the medicine I'm taking is *not* making me think any better!!). The prompt was: "...can I request a Snamione fic where he witness Hermione’s mental breakdown upon knowing the death of her parents? Hehehe we are going angst today!" 
> 
> I thought the request was about Hermione obliviating her parents (in an AU world) - I may add another chapter, or I'll write something that follows the request exactly. I hope that you enjoy this, and I'm sorry again @prompter for the mix-up!! 😩💕

“Hermione – “

It had been weeks of silence, with his lover hiding away in their rooms. There was more to the former golden girl of Gryffindor than anyone knew, and Severus watched, and he worried, as her cheeks grew pale and her words became fewer and fewer.

He felt the distance growing between them, even at night when he wrapped his arms around her, and she nestled close against his chest. Sleep was beyond them, yet they enjoyed the intimacy of it still – at least they had until she'd turned from him.

(Why? What had he done?)

“_Trust me_,” Severus ached to say. “_Please, Hermione, let me in again_.”

But he didn’t.

Couldn’t.

For underneath it all, Severus knew that he was a coward still, regardless of his duplicitous role at the Dark Lord’s side. The Ministry had given him a medal – a scrap of worthless tin – as if that could make his hands clean again.

He’d witnessed horrific things, things beyond anyone witch or wizard’s imagination, aside from Voldemort himself, and perhaps, Dumbledore. The later was hailed as the guiding mentor of the wizarding world, but above all others, Severus knew his true nature: Dumbledore willingly accepted what others would have cringed at, as long as it would aid his efforts during the war.

It was right, and it was wrong, and Severus –

He wanted little part of it.

His own Change was because of the Dark Lord after Voldemort explored the nature of vampires. Severus acted as his servant and was changed first – he'd burned in agony for days until his heart stilled, and he burned anew, his throat aching with thirst. He was a creature without morals, or limits, and had slaughtered as other Death Eaters had, and was privy to horrors that only those closest to the Dark Lord were allowed. There were so many innocents that suffered, regardless of their bloodline or their nature -

He never raised a finger to stop them, nor spared the unfortunate a single word, and he knew that he would burn for it –

Something that Hermione knew as well, for he’d wept in her arms, and confessed his sins to her. The world would never know the weight of his heart nor the true workings of his soul, but she alone would always know.

“Don’t.”

Severus flinched as his lover turned away from him, his heart thudding inside his chest. "It's over then?" he asked, forcing himself to swallow nausea that rose in his throat.

He’d always known he wasn’t good enough for Hermione, the same way he wasn’t good enough for Lily. (What had he told Hermione at the start of their relationship? “_I’m less of a man than I am a creature, Hermione_”? It was an understatement by far.)

And yet, Hermione had stayed by his side, freely and wholly of her own will. She’d accepted him when his nature became clear; his fangs grazing her wrist when he kissed her there, and his dark eyes had bored into hers. Her blood was ambrosia on his tongue, her nature as enthralling as a siren’s call.

And when they had reached the point of no return, she had done more than accept him –

She’d chosen him, as her Sire.

Her Mate.

They knew each other as no one else did, as they brewed countless potions together, in their little nest that was hidden from the world. They lived in muggle London, a place where they could live as they wished, and where no one noticed if a petty criminal or two went missing. (In fact, their formerly crime-ridden neighborhood was grateful for the dramatic reduction in crime, as stolen items were returned, and doors were left unlocked once more.)

He withdrew from her, as his familiar friend, anger, found him once again. “Have you realized what I am?” Severus asked, “A foul creature, a sniveling beast – “

It was easy to slip into his former skin, as the greasy-haired and embittered potions master. He knew what the students thought of him and remembered how the staff had avoided him. He reveled in their distance, as it fueled his bitterness; something he had ceased to feel in his life with Hermione. But he was weak then, and exposed, and wanted to hide away where she wouldn't see how he lived for her.

If she left him –

No, Severus thought grimly. _When_ she left him, he would be the creature the world knew before, the one who snapped and snarled without remorse. He wasn’t meant to have others near, he was his father’s heir.

“Stop it,” Hermione said, closing the space between them.

“Why should I, Ms. Granger – “Severus sneered, stilling as her hand rose to cup his cheek.

"Severus," Hermione said as if his name meant something to her still. "This – this isn't about you, or us. I'm not," she hesitated, searching for the right words to say. "I know that I haven't been myself lately. I…”

“You haven’t,” Severus croaked, his tangled feelings exposed. He felt as anxiety entwined with his simmering anger, and his hand covered hers. “Please Hermione, _let me in_.”

“I did something a decade ago,” Hermione whispered, “something during the war that I cannot let go of. It…it happened next month, and I – I can’t stop thinking of it.”

Severus’s brow furrowed, as he rested his temple against hers. “You were a child during the war,” he said, his tone as gentle as his words were overused. “Dumbledore used you as a soldier – whatever you did is not yours to blame yourself for.”

“But it is,” Hermione replied, with a sad, little smile. “I wanted to keep my parents safe, and I…I took their lives away from them, Severus. I Obliviated them and sent them away to Australia, where they would be safe.”

He kissed away the tears that slid down her cheeks, as shame pooled through his veins. It was his nature to interpret his mate’s hurt as because of him, with his father’s words ringing in his ears – feelings of worthlessness and self-loathing always seemed just below the surface, as if he were a child still.

He wanted to be better for her.

He had to be.

She hadn’t made the decision for him to change her lightly, no, and it was entirely her decision alone. The cursed knife that Bellatrix had used to carve the horrid word into her skin was slowly killing her, the dark magic imbued within her wound leeching her very life from her. Hermione told him she wasn’t afraid to die, after cure after cure had resulted in little change.

Nor had Hermione proposed it at first, after Severus confessed his love for her. She asked for nothing from him but stayed at his side, faithfully stirring his potions, and spending her nights awake with him, even before he changed her. They kept the world at bay outside their door, and wanted nothing but privacy, above all.

She wrote letters frequently to Harry and his wife, as well as his godson, Draco Malfoy who sought redemption after the war and he apologized for his treatment of her. She wrote letters too, to George Weasley who mourned for the loss of his twin, and she wrote to Ron, who struggled to find his stride as an Auror still. Hermione had a longing for the outside world that Severus lacked, though he never sought to prevent her from having friendships.

Yet it was Severus who held her during the Change, allowing her to weep in his arms, as she writhed, and she burned. It was an experience that bonded them closer to one another, the fury of the Change driving the Dark Magic from her soul. It fled her body, but Severus never left her, nor did he want to.

“I’m sorry,” Severus whispered, before kissing the tip of her nose. “So very sorry, Hermione.”

She had always taken comfort in his voice, and like a purring cat, rubbed her cheek against his. “I can’t help but think they are safe but not whole,” Hermione confessed, “Or maybe it’s too painful to think of them as being happy _and_ whole, without remembering me at all – “

His arms circled around her waist, as he pulled her flush against him. “I understand,” Severus said, having once felt the same about Lily, as she burned with life when she was married to James Potter. Yet his feelings for Lily were nothing like how he felt towards Hermione, the only soul to ever accept him wholly, and unflinchingly.

He never would regret the rainy night that he'd come across her, when she'd sat alone at a train station, with her beaded purse in her arms. She'd broken up with Ron and fled from the wizarding world – straight into his arms after they left the train station to eat at his favorite curry place instead. The dull flavor of human food had seemed spicy and danced across his tongue when he sat across from her, and they had simply never parted afterward.

Nor would they if Severus had his wish, and Hermione truly wanted to stay.

“I miss them,” Hermione murmured, “Every night and every day, even though I never forget that I’m the one to blame. I chose to send them away, without a memory of the child they had, or…or anything of their former lives. Their true lives,” her voice cracked at that, and she moved to bury her head against his shoulder. “I don’t have a right to feel this way.”

“You do,” Severus said, his hands resting on the small of her back.

She was a mess of contradictions; her small frame holding a soul that was far stronger, and bolder than his own. He wanted to curse himself for leaving her to the wolves during the war, though they weren’t lovers, nor friends then. His focus then was consumed with thoughts of Lily and twisted bitterness about protecting her son.

“Merlin, Hermione, you did the only thing that you could. The Dark Lord would have never allowed your parents to live. The things that he did to muggles – the things that_ I_ did to them – “ he dragged a ragged breath in.

He wanted her closer still as if he could hold on to her, so she never let go of him.

“You saved them, my love,” Severus said softly, though they were the only ones in their room. There would never be another between them, nor a child born from her womb, as their kind was unchanging.

There was only the low purr of her familiar, Crookshanks, who chose then to wind about their legs and rub his face against Severus' foot. With a little blood magic, he would live out his immortal days with them. "My love, my life - believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He wouldn’t. 

“Promise?” Hermione asked, quieter than he’d ever heard her.

He prayed that she would believe him, as truth dripped from his words. No one would have helped his mate and her parents, not even him. Dumbledore had cared only for Harry, zealously arranging his pawns so his king was protected, and at the forefront of the chessboard. Harry was the one that mattered – Harry was the only one that truly mattered and was needed in the war against Voldemort.

“I swear it,” Severus whispered. "I'll take a Vow if you wish."

He wanted to free her from her pain, her guilt, even as he knew that it couldn't be undone. It was an ache inside of her soul that wouldn't leave her, yet he wanted to try as he never had for any other. Offers rose to his tongue, ones of finding a reversal to the spell, and finding her parents once again.

Severus held his tongue still, knowing that wasn’t what his mate needed, not then. Later, perhaps, when her tears had dried and she nestled close to him, and she knew that he would listen to all that she wanted to share.

She pressed closer against him and grasped the fabric of his robes with her hand. “I wish that I didn’t remember,” Hermione confessed, “over and over again. I see their eyes glaze over and I…I just can’t – I want to forget but I never want to let them go.”

It was all that she could give him then, the wound too raw, and exposed as it was. (Yet she didn't turn her heart away, no – it turned toward him, as she sought the comfort of his hold and the honesty of his soul.)

“I know, sweetheart,” Severus said, knowing more than most how she felt. There were memories that haunted him once, a tangle of faces and a mesh of names that were engraved across his skin. “I know.”

They held each other close, saying nothing then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	15. Severus x Hermione | Same Era, AU | T | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this post on Tumblr: https://64.media.tumblr.com/be610c254634d8985c515487e2a09a21/tumblr_p98sxqthyD1qgf487o1_640.jpg
> 
> I think Hermione would change Severus's decorating style...(just maybe) 🤭💕

Severus liked to decorate.

  
Truly. 

  
He sneered as the students filed into his classroom and were taken aback by the paintings he’d hung on the walls. There was little harm in a gruesome figure or two, and Severus was pleased with the heavy curtains that kept any possible sunlight out. His students were there to learn, not to daydream –   
  


And Severus laughed at the students who tried. 

  
He never failed to be amused when they jumped, their faces white, and eyes wide, after he slammed his hands down on their desk, or berated them to pay attention. His words weren’t as sharp as before, not when he was a young teacher with a chip on his shoulder. She had changed that for him, but he could never abide by foolish students… 

  
He knew how to make his point, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows over the wall, and made his face appear ghoulish. It only added to his reputation as the greasy-git haired bat who crept about the dungeon. 

  
Severus bent his head, a smile creeping across his lips.

  
If only his students knew how the paintings changed when they left, photos of his family emerging instead. He had countless pictures of his wife, and her half-kneazle familiar. Nor did he keep the windows covered when he was alone, grading in his classroom, as Crookshanks often came trotting in, and curled on the sunlit floor.   
And his wife –

  
His wife (!) would come and perch on his desk, and cheekily wait until he addressed her. “Oh Professor,” Hermione often murmured, though she was only a year younger than him, “Won’t you look at my Potions essay?” 

  
Severus never said yes –

  
Instead, he’d snog her senseless, with his hands tangled in her soft curls and a warm, sweet love entangled between them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	16. Severus x Hermione | Post-Canon AU | T | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized last night that it's been a minute since I wrote anything Harry Potter related! I wanted to fix that and came up with this little sevmione drabble. (I think we could all use some fluffy stories right now! 💙).
> 
> On Tumblr, I asked what other people thought about characters like Snape or Tom Riddle's animagus form would be. @cigarettesandbruisedhips and I thought a feline would suit Snape (he's just as independent and sassy as a cat, isn't he?) and this fic came to life because of it!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and if you have any ideas for HP characters + their animagus form, I'd love to hear them! I may use your ideas for fics in the future, and I'll credit you if so. As always, I hope that all of you stay safe, and your friends/families as well. Wear a mask and stay at home, if you can, and read some fanfic! 🐱💙

His name wasn't Fluffy or Spot.

Nor was it Baxter or Oreo or Kitty. (The last made his tail swish – really, were all adults lacking in imagination? Well. All except _one_, and she’d called him by his human name since the start of their…relationship.)

Snape scowled as he leaped on to his favorite windowsill; one that bathed him with sunlight for hours in the afternoon and had a ledge that was wide enough for him to sprawl across. There, in the comfort of their rooms, Snape wasn't averse to a little luxury; relaxing far more than he ever had as the greasy bat that resided in the dungeons.

He rubbed his face against the window screen, relishing in the feel of it against his whiskers. He knew that he was a gnarled and haggard thing, with a tear in one ear and grey streaked across his chest. His other appearance wasn’t much better, as a wizard that was weighed down from his role in the war.

Idly, Snape listened to the chime of the grandfather clock.

One, two, three –

Snape purred as he heard the front door open, and her sweet voice called out to him; “I’m home, Professor!”

(Of course, he wasn't going to let her know that – cats and man alike had their pride, after all.) He kept his back turned as Hermione tiptoed into the room, shrugging off her formal robes, and pulled the ribbons free from her hair. "How was your day, Severus?" Hermione asked as she reached the window, drawing her hand down his back.

Severus turned his head toward her, his dark eyes meeting hers.

‘_Better now that you’re here_ – ‘

He wouldn’t say that, no, but she seemed to hear it all the same.

Her expression softened as she drew him into her arms and rubbed her cheek against his furry head. “I missed you,” Hermione admitted, her lips quirking into a soft smile. It was one that she reserved solely for him; one that made his toes curl and his chest ache at the sheer sweetness of it. “I don’t think our class fears me as much as they feared and respected you. Are you returning from your vacation soon?” her tone turned playful with her question, making him purr.

It seemed his suppressed sense of humor had spread to her too.

The know-it-all witch had surprised him after the war; badgering him with letters and test-scores until he'd allowed her to become his apprentice. His harsh words and dark gaze hadn't turned her away, nor the discovery of his secret – his Animagus form, one that only Dumbledore knew existed.

He had never registered with the Ministry, and after the war saw little reason in changing that fact. (Severus doubted the Ministry would receive the news well, nor would he be able to with hold grimacing at the mountain of red tape, and the employees' condescending attitudes.)

“_Dogs are man’s best friend_,” Severus once told her, with his mocking, acidic tone. “_No one pays attention to a grizzled alley cat, not even the Dark Lord. I watched and I listened and slipped into more crowded rooms than you could imagine, Granger, without a soul noticing I was there.”_

The only one that had noticed him, as a man and as a cat, was Hermione.

His apprentice that he cared for more than he’d ever cared about anyone else.

She’d charmed her way into his mind and his heart with her ink-stained fingers, and frazzled curls that he’d often longed to card his fingers through. She was precise and greedy to learn, and he felt alive when he encouraged the spirit within her. Merlin knew she was bright, perhaps the brightest student that had ever passed through the walls of Hogwarts.

Oh, he still snapped, and he snarled, and found that she matched him in turn; her temper incredible when it flared, while his was as cold as the winter wind. He learned not to take advantage of her, while she resolved to never raise her hand, or ply him with questions before his morning tea (with a single sugar cube, and a splash of milk in it - it was one of the first thing's that his then apprentice noticed about him.)

By his side, Hermione stayed, and Severus found he truly wanted her there.

Hermione squeaked as she found herself with an armful of a naked, smirking Severus Snape – her friend and her husband in turn. “I find I’m enjoying my vacation,” Severus murmured, as he wrapped his arms around her, and kissed the top of her head. “I’m a selfish man, Miss Granger, and I enjoy having you all to myself…”

She laughed as she tipped her head back, her eyes warm as they met his. “I can’t stay with you all day in bed – “

“Only at night,” Severus interrupted, his lips curling upward.

“True,” she agreed, “but you will come back soon, won’t you? I think even Neville misses you at our staff meetings – “

Severus snorted, though his wife knew he found it as amusing as she did. Longbottom made a decent Herbology Professor but was terrified of Severus still. “You haven’t let him in the classroom, have you?”

“Only this morning,” she admitted, kissing him on the cheek when he scowled.

“How many cauldrons did he ruin?”

“Well – “

“_Hermione_!”

(After _thoroughly_ snogging his wife, Severus hurried to dress. Who knew what he would find in their classroom? He couldn’t fathom the thought of his cauldrons bubbling and bursting, and the ingredients ruined with it! And behind him, Hermione followed with joy in her heart; as she knew that Neville had done nothing, but spill a bit of his pumpkin juice on her desk…)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	17. Draco x Hermione | Ministry Employees AU | T | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this quote: _"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent." _-Hermione Granger
> 
> I wrote this as a small drabble a couple weeks ago on Tumblr - I decided to expand on it a bit, and post it here. Things have been rough here, focusing on dramione fluff was a nice distraction. 🦕💙
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and supporting my work - it really does mean the world to me. Reading comments is one of my favorite things to do, you're all so kind and generous with your feedback. It makes me happy, and I'm grateful for you all. 
> 
> I hope that you're all staying safe and well, please remember to wear a mask, or stay home and read some fanfic! There's so many incredible stories shared on ao3...I think I spend more time reading fanfic than my textbook (oops, lol). If you need someone to talk to, feel free to reach out to me on Discord or Tumblr. 🤍

“Say, Granger -”

Draco peered over the top of her cubicle, an ever-familiar sight.

“Mhm?” Hermione replied, glancing up from the mass of paperwork that covered her desk. Wisely, Draco ignored the splotch of ink on her cheek, hiding his amusement as any Slytherin worth their skin would have.

(He shuddered, recalling the canaries that the curly-haired witch had sent after the Weasel. The canaries were relentless with their nips and their pecks, sending the man sprinting down the hallway, shrieking the entire way…It was something that Draco thought his mother would have been proud of, had she known.)

“Do you remember when you said, ‘At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in’?” Draco asked, using air quotes. He still remembered how smarted he’d felt, wanting nothing more than to impress the muggle-born, and her friend, _Saint_ Potter. “And that only Gryffindors had talent?”

Hermione snorted, a hint of a smile crossing her lips. “It was the truth then,” she said, only her tone had lost its usual bossiness. She had a sense of humor, Draco found, one that was subtle enough to go unnoticed by most. “As it is now.”

(And thank Merlin for that, Draco thought, as he was already - well - _eager_ enough around her. It didn’t help matters that a small, fey dragon with a talent for pyromania had set fire to both of their offices, resulting in the temporary use of cubicles. With his floor burnt to a crisp, Draco was forced to move far away from it, until it could be fixed.) 

Now, instead of avoiding the bushy-haired know it all, Draco found that he_ couldn’t_ get away from her. Granger seemed to be everywhere he turned, with balls and soirees clamoring to have her attend, and organizations eager for her to act as their representative. From organizations dedicated to the rights of familiars and their owners to repairing the reputation of vampires and enhancing the knowledge of muggle-born students, the wizarding world had declared that activism was 'in'. And who better to head the organizations than Hermione Granger, former member of the Golden Trio, who was noted for her kind heart?

And Granger agreed to represent several charities – one, was said to be her favorite, as it was dedicated to the preservation of old tomes and forgotten spells – and quickly found herself paraded throughout society. Purebred families that would have never accepted a half-blood invited her to their homes, and pushed their eligible sons forward, knowing their reputations would be repaired if Granger joined them.

Nor was his mother averse to the idea, Draco remembered with a grimace. On one of his infrequent returns to the Manor, his mother had greeted him with the idea of having Granger over for tea, even promising to keep the house-elves away ('She _must_ like us, dear.’) and serve Granger herself.

It was a nightmare that Draco wanted to escape from, and when the news came that he and Granger would share office space…

He thought it would be hell.

No. _Worse_ than hell (the very idea on par with shagging Umbridge).

Only -

It wasn’t. At all.

Draco found that Hermione liked the same tea as he did (minus the 'mountains' of sugar he put in his, even after she'd shown him pictures of tooth decay, and bleeding gums, and all sorts of horrible things. Why did any muggle enjoy learning about them? Unwisely Draco had voiced the errant thought, and Hermione had countered it with all the gruesome things his godfather – Snape – had taught them.) and she had helped him discover who was sending him cursed love letters. (Draco could thank a woman three floors down, for making him appear in Hufflepuff colors for a week straight, apparently her dream look on him…)

Though, if Draco were honest, his favorite moment was when he’d come in early and found Hermione dancing in her open cubicle. She’d hotly denied it, insisting that she was just stretching -

But she hadn’t said anything more, as her cell phone (a curious muggle invention that Draco found he adored after Hermione had helped him figure out how to use it. He’d made her his favorite contact and liked it when she sent him pictures of Crookshanks, with him sending pictures of his owl, Athena, in return) had continued to play music.

Music that Draco liked as well.

“The Gryffindors are still better than the Slytherins,” Hermione said, tapping his hand with the feathery end of her quill. She often knew when he was losing himself in thought and brought him back from it. She’d saved him in front of Kingsley more than once that way, grounding him in a way that no one else could. If only Lucius had learned from her, Draco mused, as his father had favored threats and snide comments after the war. “Neville owl’d last week and said Slytherin hasn’t won a game this season -“

“They will,” Draco replied, with a confidence he didn’t feel. “I’ll have father buy new brooms for them all.”

Hermione blinked -

Once, twice, and again before bursting into laughter.

“Shush, Malfoy!” Hermione exclaimed, her cheeks pin with delight, as he laughed with her. It was a sight that few would believe, though Draco and Hermione had set their adversity apart after the war.

It helped, just a little, mind you, that Draco frequently worked with Potter and Weasley, as they were Aurors, and he worked for the head of legal affairs, Amelia Bones. 

“Or what?” Draco asked, lifting his brow. “Will you tell Potter?”

“Will you tell your father?”

“No,” Draco said, running his fingers through his hair. “I would rather take you out my broom instead, for a -“

“Ride?”

“A date,” he finished, aware of her fear of flying. Weasley still teased her for it, and Draco could hardly see her riding on his broom when she wouldn't get on Weasley's. But.

Draco had to ask and was encouraged by the bottle of fire whiskey that was hidden in his desk if she said no.

“I - “

Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip, mulling over his words. “Do you mean it?” she asked, in a hesitant tone that he wasn’t used to.

Not from her. Never from her –

(Only that wasn’t true, as Draco remembered how she had screamed, as vulnerable as anyone could be, with his mad aunt crouched beside her. Bellatrix was mad, mad, mad and would have never let her go – and he had done_ nothing_ -)

“I do,” Draco said. “I’d like to - well, no, I’d love to.”

He liked the sweet muggle-born far more than he should. (And what was he going to do? He was going to take her on a date, hopefully, more than one. Draco's heart leaped at the thought of two dates, let alone three. Or four.)

“Oh,” Hermione peeped up at him beneath her eyelashes. “I'd…I’d like that,” she said and found that she meant it, for they had all changed from their days at school. “As long as there isn’t any flying involved?”

His lips curled into a smile. “There won’t be, not unless you ask for it.”

They would Apparate instead, to a small diner that he loved. It had late hours and served the best curry that he’d ever had, one that he hoped Hermione would like too. Not to mention, it was just below an antique book shop…

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

At that, Hermione found herself smiling too. “Seven pm then?”

“Seven,” Draco agreed, delighted at what lay ahead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	18. Give Away!

Hello everyone! I meant to post this the other day but with my migraine (one that I've had for nearly a week now, yikes!), I wasn’t until now. I surpassed 300,000k views on ao3 the other day and wanted to do something to celebrate! 🤍🦕

I’m giving away (2) digital copies of ‘Royal Protection: An Erotic Collection’ and (1) digital copy of ‘Lego Star Wars: The Force Awakens’! (All you need to do is enter with your e-mail - there’s no shipping address needed!) 

The give away will run until October 1st, 2020 (EST) and winners will be selected via random number generator. I’ll e-mail the winners within 24hours and after 72 hours, if there’s no response, another winner will be chosen. 

[Here’s a link to the give away form!](https://forms.gle/2F4KntYJc8aQGz9f9) 🙌

Reaching almost half a million views in less than a year is crazy to me, and I’m so grateful for the support that my work has received. It's something that I never imagined would happen to me, and I don't think I can put into words what it means to me. It's changed my life and opened up a world that I never knew I could (or would) be apart of. 🤍

You’re all so kind and lovely, your comments, bookmarks, kudos, dms, etc. mean the world to me! I love hearing from you all, and if you'd ever like to contact me, please feel free to add me on Discord or reach out via Tumblr/Ao3/etc! ⭐🤍🌙 I’m excited about giving something back to you guys, and hope that you decide to enter! Thank you! 

*Digital copies of the anthology are only for entrants in the USA, while Lego Star Wars is for international entrants - I hope to find a way to send my published work to international readers in the future! 


	19. Personal Update

Hi everyone!

I just posted this update on Tumblr and I wanted to share it here too, even if it this scare turns out to be nothing. I’ve had a migraine and intense fever for the last week, and I’m still not feeling any better. 

I’m getting a covid test done today - in April of this year, covid struck my parents and I. My dad ended up in the ICU for almost a month with only a 25% chance of survival. 

There were so many of you that were so kind and supportive - I can’t thank all of you enough! All of your good wishes, prayers, and cards that you sent were deeply appreciated. 

Originally I tested negative three times for covid and it was only when I went to the ER and was given a chest x-ray that I was diagnosed with covid. I have a poor immune system and we’ve been diligent about wearing masks, washing our hands, sanitizing, etc. however both of my parents have returned to work. 

The greatest worry if I have covid again is for my dad, since the doctors have warned him he won’t survive a second round of the virus. 

My mom has started to have a fever the past two days, and we’re all hoping for the best, but are very worried. I’d be very grateful for any good wishes/prayers you could send our way! 🤍🌙🤍⭐

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹


	20. Severus x Hermione | Post-War AU | T | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: '...She was beginning to realise how far down in her memory she'd buried her teenage years...'
> 
> Is it wrong to admit that I love this little piece? If I ever have the time, I may expand it, and turn it into a proper one shot. 🤍🦕
> 
> I appreciate every comment, kudos, bookmark, etc. and the reception my writing has received on ao3 and Tumblr as a whole. You've all been incredibly kind and more than I could ever ask for. Thank you so much, and stay safe, everyone. 🤍

She was beginning to realize how far down in her memory she’d buried her teenage years, as she studied the scratch on her hand. It stretched across her knuckles, nearly three inches long, and had faded almost seamlessly into her skin.

Her breath hitched when Severus’s hand tangled with hers, their fingers interlacing. “What was it from?” Severus asked, and she knew that he’d seen her scar.

He noticed everything about her as if she were a puzzle, he couldn’t help but try to take apart, as if he could study her piece by colorful piece.

“Crooks wasn’t happy with me,” Hermione admitted, remembering how she’d attempted to take a mouse away from him. She couldn’t stand how he toyed with them, often throwing them into the air and catching them with between his teeth. She had never looked at rodents the same way, after Pettigrew.

Nor had she looked at many things the same, after the war eclipsed her childhood.

It had swept them all into a frenzied state, their school years dominated by the shadow of the Dark Lord. Hermione swallowed tautly, remembering how they had been terrified to even think, let alone say his name.

_Voldemort_ –

She shook her head as if it would send the thoughts away.

It never quite worked that way, Hermione knew. Her lover knew it too, as he slowly tucked her beneath his chin. “Stay with me,” he murmured, a far cry from the tortured professor she’d once known.

They both were different people after the war, two lost souls that had found one another, and never let go. Her childhood dreams were lost to her, the same as dreams of a future were lost to Snape. He’d confessed that his wishes, his dreams had never mattered for much, as shaded as they were by the Potter legacy.

It was foolish for anyone to think, let alone say that they had won –

“We survived,” Hermione said, echoing the words she’d said before the Ministry panel. She had no fear of the law when it came to defending Snape, and Draco alike. “And now we live.”

“How?”

Severus asked, brushing his hand against her cheek. “How, Hermione?”

He always knew how to bring her back the present, back to him.

“With love,” the very thing that Voldemort had never known and never had. It was untainted and clean, the same as the blood running through their veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	21. Draco x Hermione | Childhood Friends | T | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 'As he flicked through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump...'
> 
> This was supposed to be a 200-400 word drabble - oops? 💙🦕
> 
> There's nothing better than writing some fluff on a dreary, rainy day (especially since I *love* the cold but when it comes to damp weather, I'm bundled up in two sweaters, double socks, and fleece pajama bottoms.). 
> 
> Also, to celebrate 300k+ views on ao3, I'm running a little, digital give-away that ends on October 1st! I'm giving away two digital copies of Royal Protection: An Erotic Anthology (18+) and one key (for Steam) of Lego Star Wars: The Force Awakens. It's for international and USA readers alike, if you're interested: https://forms.gle/gTbH8arxtcaTTteJ7 (the link is to the google form for the give away!). 🤍💙
> 
> You're all so sweet and kind, it makes me incredibly grateful to be able to share my work with you (both original and fanfic!). Thank you so much for your support and for taking the time to share your thoughts with me. Please, stay safe and well! ⭐🌙

As Draco flicked through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump.

He would have recognized the neat handwriting anywhere, with its fine curves and precise lines that were on par with the Malfoy House-Elves. (Nor was Draco joking, as his family's House-Elves were often requested to write wedding invitations, betrothal announcements, and the like.)

Carefully, Draco broke the wax seal and pulled out the card inside. He chuckled when he saw the cover with its depiction of a grumpy looking toad wearing a raincoat. Hermione knew his tastes well, stormy skies, and rain sloshing across the pavement never one of his favorite days.

Together, they’d called off from work more than once, and spent the rainy day at the Manor. It always felt right – holding the witch he’d known since childhood in his arms – while they watched a movie from the comfort of his bed.

There were days when Draco visited her flat with a bottle of elf-made wine, and they had Sunday dinner together (a quaint muggle tradition that Draco found he liked…especially with Crooks curled on his lap, and Hermione sitting across from him).

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, remembering the first dinner they had. He'd shown up in formal dress robes, while Hermione was dressed in a plaid jumper and skinny jeans. She'd laughed and he'd pouted – until the next dinner when he dressed in a casual, muggle way that matched hers. (Then it was Draco's turn to see her blush!).

Everything was easy between them, the same as when they were children. She made him laugh in a way that no one else could, while he enjoyed teasing and complimenting her in turn. It was nothing like Draco had grown up with, the marriage between his parents a distant yet supportive one. Hermione was his friend, the truest one that he’d ever had, and he wanted everything from her. The days spent with her were moments he always wanted to remember, especially while she was away in America.

‘_Dear Draco,_

_Everything is going well in New York! You’ll never believe who I met the other day – Nancy Pimm, a gorgon that claims to be descended from Medusa! She established the most wonderful sanctuary here –_ ‘

Draco stifled a groan as he glanced toward the calendar that hung in his office, a muggle creation that he would never admit to using (not publicly anyway - he still had the Malfoy name to uphold, as his father often reminded him).

_Three weeks left_ –

Daily, he crossed off the days since Hermione left, having been invited to oversee the efforts of the American Ministry as it created a branch dedicated to the health and happiness of magical creatures. As soon as Hermione had shared the news with him, Draco knew what her answer would be.

She had a heart that was far softer than anyone knew, including the Slytherins that had surrounded her in childhood. She and Draco had become fast friends, surprising all around them – who would expect a pureblood to befriend a swotty, know-it-all, muggle-born?

Only they were wrong, Draco knew, as he found Hermione knew many useful things; like where Lupin hid his chocolate bars, and how to 'borrow' books from the Restricted Section…there were some things that were better not for the others to know, as Draco claimed Hermione as his own.

(Draco doubted his possessiveness should come as a surprise to anyone. As an only child, and the sole Malfoy heir, he was indulged and cosseted by his parents, and he reveled in being the center of attention. Nor did he ever learn to share his toys, including the heirloom broom his father had given him, or the purebred kneazle his mother secured for him. Draco held the same view of Hermione, though he quickly knew his friend meant more to him than any broom or kneazle…)

They _always_ partnered with one another, studied, played, and ate together, and tasted their first butterbeer together. It came as little surprise to his parents when Draco invited Hermione to spend the summer with them after he'd sent letters home filled with references to his new friend. One meeting with Hermione and his parents had resulted in Lucius eating out of her hand, and Narcissa’s delight.

“_What a lovely playmate she’ll make for you, darling_.”

His mother’s words quickly proved to be true - Hermione _was_ his closest friend after all, though he later adjusted to her friendship with Pansy and Theo and Blaise.

She had to have _some_ allies in Slytherin after all, and it was well known that if someone wanted access to Draco, they would have to accept his muggle-born witch too. Neither would have it any other way, as it was soon apparent that Draco was only close to Hermione and vice versa, with others paling in comparison.

Especially when one rogue Gryffindor attempted to flirt with Hermione in their fourth year – Draco had seethed with irritation at Hermione’s flustered amusement, and the boy was soon found hanging by his ankles in the bathroom, with his robes shredded to ribbons around him. The claws marks littered across his robes looked suspiciously like those of a kneazle, though nothing was ever proven.

Things had returned to normal after that, with Draco and Hermione closer than ever. It was simple to be with her, easy even; without pressure on his shoulders or a need to pretend to be something, and someone he wasn’t. She accepted him when he imitated his father, though the word ‘_mudblood_’ never passed his lips, while he indulged her love for Hogwarts: A History in turn. She could be worse than a dictionary, far more detailed than an encyclopedia, and Draco found himself learning things about the wizarding world that even he had never known.

Nor was she always swotty, like the time she spent a week at his side when he was in the infirmary after Buckbeak knocked him to the ground. She was the only one who came and read his favorite comics aloud to him; something that he would later do for her when she was turned to stone by a rogue basilisk.

Madly he'd thought of following her to America. He had a third of his inheritance and could well afford to buy a house or apartment there, though he doubted Hermione would approve.

‘_It’s only for a month_,’ she’d told him, before bushing her lips against his cheek. ‘_I’ll be back before you know it, Malfoy_.’

She had a way of scolding him that vaguely reminded him of Professor McGonagall, though she lacked the requisite tail and whiskers, which Draco was thankful for. No, he’d suffered enough tongue lashings from McGonagall, ones that made _Snape_ of all people look soft in comparison. 

Draco held the card against his face as he re-read her last line: ‘_It’s strange to work without you at my side – somehow the tea doesn’t taste quite right here, though no one steals my sugar quills_.’

He knew what she meant, as much of a Slytherin as he was.

“I miss you too, Hermione,” he murmured, his pulse slowing. He felt the unsaid words on his tongue, the ones that he would say as soon as she came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	22. Tom x Hermione | One-night stand AU | M | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little gift for an anon on Tumblr that requested I write more tomione stories - and this is my first story for 'Inventober' created by @geeseandgirl! Day 1's prompt was 'spellbook'. ⭐🌙🤍
> 
> I'm excited about following prompts for October, something that I've never done before! I may update older fanfics of mine or create new ones, we'll see - I'm going to do a mix of fandoms and pairings. 
> 
> Happy spooky month everyone, and thank you for reading!

“’Ello Granger,” her co-worker called, “An owl came by earlier – a bit nippy, that one. I let it in, and it dropped something on your desk.”

“Oh, thank you!” Hermione said, rising to her feet. She balanced a stack of books in her arms and was careful to watch her step. Tripping was a hazard for any librarian, whether they were in the Muggle or Wizarding world…

Her cheeks darkened as she felt an ache between her legs, one that wasn’t related to anything physical at work – but rather from her date the night before. She’d swept her hair up into a messy bun and wore the same dress robes that she always did, though she was intently aware of the marks that someone had left behind.

‘You’re mine,’ her date said with every mark, and every touch.

'Yours,' she'd gasped if only so she could come –

For Tom Riddle was as cruel as he was kind.

For weeks Hermione ignored him as he made the library his own, taking her favorite table by the northern windows, ones that overlooked the rose gardens. There, he surrounded himself with old tomes and drew countless patrons near.

Everyone knew the Gaunt family, their bloodline beginning with Salazar himself. Tom was as close to pure as anyone could be, with a talent for wandless magic and irresistible charm to match, a trait that made him enormously popular during their days at Hogwarts.

Few were able to find fault with him, regardless of whether they were a professor or student. He deducted points mercilessly as Head Boy, and few dared to complain. Draco Malfoy was one, and Harry another, though few listened to them (as most rightly assumed that Malfoy was envious of Tom, and in Harry's case, even Hermione could admit that he hated most Slytherins).

And Tom was shamelessly handsome, a trait that ensured his popularity lasted with _both _sexes. Every Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff had willingly cast their house loyalties aside and pursued him. Ginny and Lavender were the only exceptions, the former dating Harry, while the latter was too wrapped up with Ron to notice Tom.

(Hermione had noticed him, though she would never admit to. Her years at Hogwarts consisted of books and spells and helping Hagrid with his creatures and keeping the ‘boys’ out of trouble…no, Hermione had never had time for Tom Riddle or any other boy.)

She’d left Tom Riddle behind when she graduated from Hogwarts, swept up with dreams of working for the Ministry. She’d achieved her dream too, as she was the head of the Ministry’s magnificent library; one that was filled with Muggle and magical books. It was her dream of paradise, one that was never meant to involve Tom Riddle.

Until he’d shown up at her library, her paradise, and made his home there - Hermione had spoken only a handful of words to him yet felt him watching her whenever he visited.

It unnerved her.

_He_ unnerved her – and intrigued her too.

(“_Have you warmed to me yet, darling_?” Tom teased her, as he brushed kisses up her jaw. Heat flared inside her as his hands cradled her face, and he pressed his lips against hers. He was clove and sandalwood and beautiful sin.)

Hermione had never dreamed that Mr. Riddle (as she called him if only to see his smirk falter) meant it when he invited her out after work. Somehow, she’d said ‘yes’ before she could say ‘no’ and when he’d shown up at her flat…Gods, they hadn’t even _made_ it to dinner!

Hermione nearly dropped the books at that, as she stepped inside her office. It was a small, nondescript room that was dwarfed by her desk and the single window behind it. Placing the books on the floor, Hermione sat on the edge of her desk and looked at the cream-colored envelope.

‘_Miss Granger_,’ it said in his crisp handwriting –

Hermione tucked a curl behind her ear, before opening it.

‘_May I see you again_?’ was written in black ink, without a drip or splatter across the page. Hermione inhaled as she saw his phone number written below the question, one that she wouldn't answer.

She wouldn’t –

Leaning her head back, her eyes fluttered closed.

She would, she knew that she would, and she imagined that Tom knew it too. “Know-it-all,” Hermione grumbled, though her warm tone said it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly and Metalvenomludens7! 🦝🖤


	23. Crookshanks & Hermione | Hogwarts AU | T | I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 2 of Inventober (created by @girlandgeese on Tumblr): Monster bits 
> 
> I had fun writing this - a little spooky, yet sweet drabble (just like Halloween!). Thank you for reading and supporting my work, I'm so grateful for all of you. Happy spooky month, and stay safe. 💜🧡
> 
> (Also I adore rats - they're fiercely intelligent and make lovely pets, please don't think I consider them as being anything close to monsters! This was the first idea that popped into mind for the prompt, and is meant in a lighthearted way.) 🎃

“You can’t be serious, Crooks!” Hermione exclaimed, as her familiar laid a rat’s tail at her feet. It was the tenth one he’d delivered to her in less than a week; her stomach twisting each time as the tail wriggled and squirmed. Haughtily, Crooks looked up toward her with his ear twitching –

As if he expected her thanks!

Hermione cringed as she squatted near him, ignoring his gift. “You can’t terrorize the rodents like this, Crooks,” she scolded, her words belied as she scratched under his chin. “It’s not right - Hogwarts is the only home they’ve ever known. Just the other day I was reading Hogwarts: A History and …”

She ticked off the facts that she knew on her fingers; as she recounted how students had quickly tamed the furry, little beasts. The rats were able to traverse through the hallways, ignored by the ghosts, and unseen by the rest. They often carried a note that was tied to their tail, or the underside of their bellies with a knotted string to keep it in place.

It was only when the House-elves rebelled at cleaning their nests and tripping over rats underfoot, that students were banned from using the rats, and had to rely on their familiars (or a ghost bribed with secrets and scandalous gossip) instead. Hermione thought it was all rather impractical, _foolish_ even, as the rats scurried through the walls, ignored and unwanted, without anything to do. Surely their work before had kept them entertained, and their tummies full of the snacks the students rewarded them with.

Instead, the sullen rats turned to gnaw on dusty tomes and misplaced wands instead and refused to abandon their nests, insistent on remaking them instead. It was common for quills and parchment paper to go missing, along with loose buttons, socks, even a part of a tie or robe (something that happened to many Ravenclaws, as absorbed as they could be with their studies). The rats would chew through anything if they wanted it, taking part of it with them, and leaving a mess behind.

Except for the dumbo-eared rat that made its home in her drawer, somehow knowing to stay out of view from her roommates. The rat was sweeter than most creatures Hermione had encountered, and after she gave it a piece of her biscuit, never wanted to leave. Hermione had never meant to break the rules, truly –

And technically she wasn’t, as she didn’t give the rat any messages to carry, or insist they stay with her. She only petted it on occasion; crooning how cute its rounded ears were and giggling when it nibbled on her fingers. It wasn’t doing any harm, and she hadn’t named it after the first muggle dentist.

Nor did Hermione smile when the rat recognized its name, appearing when she called.

She_ didn’t_.

“You have to be good,” Hermione chided, as Crooks rubbed his cheek against her hand. Her best friend and loyal study partner, Theo, would have chuckled had he heard her tone; it being the same one that she used when scolding _him_. "Just because you don't like your sister doesn't mean you can take it out on the others."

Crooks meowed in response, though whether he was agreeing or disagreeing with her was yet to be seen. And inside her dresser drawer, a familiar rat squeaked. ‘Thank you, Crooks, he was _always _mean to me…’ (referring to the latest rat that the half-kneazle caught).

For the rat that adored Hermione hadn’t been kindly treated and had shared her unfortunate tale with the half-kneazle. And Crooks hid his amusement, knowing what their owner didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, for there was a whole other life he and other creatures had at Hogwarts…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly and Metalvenomludens7! 🦝🖤


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